


Torment

by bcbdrums



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Coping, Depression, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Loneliness, Pining, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhappy Ending, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25643755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcbdrums/pseuds/bcbdrums
Summary: Drakken stood and walked back to his balcony, pushing the doors open roughly before stepping out into the slight chill of the night air. The sounds of traffic and city life that had been slightly muffled by the walls were suddenly very present, almost crushing to Drakken's ears. He stepped all the way to the railing and peered down.Nine storeys. He was nine storeys up.It wasn't quite enough for the blue splat he desired. He turned away with a disgusted scowl and headed back indoors.The flower tapped his cheek then as if reminding Drakken of its presence. When he turned to look at it, it appeared as though the bloom was judging him."Don't give me that look! This is all your fault!"
Relationships: Dr. Drakken & Shego (Kim Possible), Dr. Drakken/Shego (Kim Possible)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Torment

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I am sad, so I wrote a sad fic. All the angst, up in here tonight...
> 
> Warnings: suicidal thoughts; small references to drinking and pornography.

Drakken stood on the balcony of his apartment in Japan, looking out at the light pollution that blocked the view of the stars from the sky. He was glad for it. He felt he could live the rest of his life without seeing the stars again.

When the vibration of his PDA indicated an email he looked down and noted first, his boss was scheduling an emergency staff meeting in the morning, and second, that it was past midnight. He closed the PDA and stood with a yawn and a long stretch that made the bones in his back crack. Yet another night spent awake far beyond the time he would need to go to bed to get a healthy-night's sleep. Yet another night spent...lamenting his life.

After he had changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed, he began punching the tiny buttons of his PDA's keyboard in reply to his boss.

_"Hi Mr. Nakasumi,_

_"I see that I neglected to mark tomorrow as a personal day on my calendar. I always take June 16th off and I need—_

Drakken paused in his composing and deleted the last line, thinking for a moment.

_"I need June 16th off every year. I'm so sorry for the late notice but I won't be able to attend the meeting._

_Sincerely,  
Drew Lipsky"_

He read over the brief and matter-of-fact email a few times, grateful for the ability to choose words carefully in written communication before hitting send. And after it was done he set the PDA on his nightstand and lay on his back in his bed, dropping the back of one hand over his eyes.

How could he have been so foolish as to forget to block out the date on his calendar?

He felt a familiar and warm sliding sensation as the parasitic mutant vine that was attached to his spinal cord slithered out of its sheath within his back. Drakken lowered his hand and watched the pink flower bloom and hover above his head, as if asking him a question. Drakken scowled at it.

"You could have reminded me, you know!"

The flower jerked slightly, as if indignant to Drakken's scolding. Just then the PDA vibrated on the nightstand. Drakken sighed silently and the flower moved over as if immune to gravity, the vine coiling around the small electronic device before bringing it the short distance to Drakken's hand. He flipped up the cover and opened the new email from his boss.

_"We need you at the meeting. I'm sorry, but you didn't block out the date."_

Not even signed. Drakken closed the device with a scowl and tossed it aside on his mattress before throwing back the bedcovers and sitting up, running his fingers anxiously through his hair.

He glanced at the TV, with its promise of old sitcom re-runs and bad infomercials. He glanced down the hall toward his kitchen, where peanut butter stickies, cocoa-moo, and practically any number of gluttonous delights awaited. He looked at the computer sitting on his desk, with its beckoning of Minesweeper or solitaire.

He stood and walked back to his balcony, pushing the doors open roughly before stepping out into the slight chill of the night air. The sounds of traffic and city life that had been slightly muffled by the walls were suddenly very present, almost crushing to Drakken's ears. He stepped all the way to the railing and peered down.

Nine storeys. He was nine storeys up.

It wasn't quite enough for the blue splat he desired. He turned away with a disgusted scowl and headed back indoors.

The flower tapped his cheek then as if reminding Drakken of its presence. When he turned to look at it, it appeared as though the bloom was judging him.

"Don't give me that look! This is all your fault!"

And it _was_ the flower's fault. Without the flower, he wouldn't have saved the world. He might also be dead, but... He was more and more frequently coming to the conclusion that dead would be better.

He left the bedroom and headed down the hall to the kitchen, as if he could somehow escape the flower. But he knew...it would always be there. As if he needed the reminder.

In the kitchen he opened the fridge and stared at its contents. There wasn't...anything he wanted. He closed it again and set his forehead against the smooth white door.

He felt the flower move again as if trying to look at him. When Drakken dared glance to the side it was indeed there, staring and questioning if it was capable of those things. Drakken wondered briefly if it did have a sentience, as he'd wondered so many times over the years. But his genius had been too much for even him to decipher, and so he was stuck with a mutant plant parasite, and the world was protected by its many minions.

"What do you want?" he asked the flower. It only continued to face him. "You know I would be better off if you weren't around? I should have just let the doctors try to operate... I'd be better off dead, than...than..."

He trailed off as he closed his eyes and turned his face back into the cool door of the refrigerator.

The morning was going to be hell.

He cringed as he realized he could have just called in sick and no one would have been the wiser. But now that he'd requested the personal day and his boss knew, he couldn't.

"Nghhyah!" he roared out, causing the flower to quickly retreat. He lifted his fists and slammed them into the fridge door, and then turned and set them on his kitchen counter. He bent his aching back forward and rested his forehead on his fists as he tried to figure out what to do.

June 16th. He couldn't work on June 16th. He couldn't do _anything_ on June 16th. And now he had no choice, and it was nearing one o'clock in the morning, and he had to wake up at five, and—

He took a slow breath. Maybe...it was better. Maybe falling asleep during whatever meeting was suddenly so important, and then doing a lack-lustre job for the rest of the day would be enough distraction. It wasn't as if he'd ever found adequate distraction enough in years past, staying home or going out.

Drakken sighed and stood, his aged back protesting even the brief time in the hunched position, and turned to go back to his bedroom. Another night staring at his ceiling fan and wondering where he had gone wrong seemed to be his only option.

He lay down in his bed again, his PDA falling forgotten to the floor as he adjusted his blankets, and then stared wide-eyed at the spinning device on the ceiling that kept the air moving.

June 16th wasn't where he had gone wrong. It was somewhere between that date, and ten days prior—the day he had accepted a medal at the United Nations, and then a pardon.

 _She_... She had smiled at him. She hadn't even been that mad about his vine spinning around them and pulling them tightly together, the image a _paparazzo_ 's dream.

Was it later when so many magazines printed that image on the cover? She had looked increasingly startled by them each time a new one came in the mail, but otherwise...he didn't know what she thought. She'd never said a word about them.

Was it after that, when he had told her he was going to take the job with their one-time victim in Japan? A six-figure salary and state-of-the-art technology was hard to argue with, especially when he had learned that it wasn't toys he was making; no, he was to be part of one of the lesser-known branches of the conglomerate that dealt with cybertronics. It was a dream come true!

She had sounded...interested. She'd asked him all sorts of questions about it, at the time. She had even agreed it was the best choice between all of the other offers he had received. She had been completely supportive.

So had he said something wrong...on the night of the fifteenth? It had been her idea to watch movies together. She'd even...

Drakken felt tears running down the sides of his face as he stared up at his ceiling fan, which was slightly shaking in an oscillating pattern one would only notice if they were looking.

She'd even asked him to make cocoa-moo.

They had had fun.

Drakken quickly got up and sat on his heels, bending his face over the bed as his tears fell in large, hot droplets and dampened the blankets.

"What did I do wrong?" he choked out.

After a few heaving breaths he turned his bleary eyes and peered through the dark at his nightstand. The vine emerged from his back again, knowing his thoughts before he even had them, and moved slowly to the nightstand drawer and pulled it open. The flower scooped out the small folded paper that was the drawer's only content and carefully brought it to Drakken, presenting it almost reverently.

Drakken lifted the paper off of the pink petals with shaking hands. It was a receipt; old, and dated back to March of 2006. He'd long ago memorized what was on it. _'Hot stone massage and salt glow package - $140 - Mount Olympus Spa.'_ Not that that mattered. Or did it? No, it didn't. It was just a piece of paper she had found.

He unfolded the thin receipt and read the words she had penned boldly on the back. He had found the note on her pillow the day after their movie night. June 16th.

_'Going solo. Have fun in Japan.  
—Shego'_

Below the words was the imprint of her black lipstick that shone with an iridescent green he had discovered the one time he had looked at the note in sunlight.

He didn't need to see it. He had memorized everything about it long ago: the way she pressed the pen more firmly on downward strokes than upward; the way she didn't quite dot her 'i' but made more of a careless slash above the vowel; the way her lower lip had pressed more firmly than the upper, and how her lips had been slightly parted when she left the final sign of her presence in his life.

He had stared at the note for more hours than was healthy. And if anyone knew he still had it after three years, they would probably say he was losing his mind.

Well...they wouldn't exactly be wrong.

June 16th. She never came out of her room that day. And then he had found the note.

She had just...vanished. Completely. As if off the face of the Earth.

Japan had been willing to wait for him since he was a 'world hero,' and he'd spent months doing nothing but looking for her. He tried every villain connection he had, including those he was on bad terms with. He tried requesting help of government agencies, who were happy to help since he was a 'world hero.' He had finally and desperately asked for help from Kim Possible. But even her computer whiz kid couldn't find Shego. No sightings. No security recordings. No crime reports. She was just...gone.

He folded the note carefully and leaned over to place it back in the drawer, a muscle in his neck spasming as he did so. He winced as he pushed the drawer closed and then sat up slowly, reaching a hand back to massage the aching muscle.

Possible would call in the morning. He would probably miss the call, since he would be yawning through a meeting. But if he was able to take her call, he knew exactly how it would go. He would hold his breath and ask the question. And she would answer sadly that no, there was still no trace of his former side-kick anywhere. Drakken knew without a doubt, that would be the answer. Because Possible wouldn't wait for the anniversary of her disappearance to call if she'd found her.

Drakken stood up and straightened his pajamas and then smoothed out his blankets. He glanced at the TV with its promise of pay-per-view and violent movies. He looked at the hallway to the kitchen where he kept various bottles of spirits that he'd barely ever touched in his villain years. He turned toward the computer on his desk where Internet pornography beckoned.

With a shaking yawn, he crossed the room and stepped out onto his balcony once more. He looked up at the sky that should have been black and dotted with stars, but was instead a golden-gray; nature's beauty interrupted by the ever-present hum of humanity. But he didn't mind.

He could live the rest of his life without ever seeing the stars again.

He brought his gaze down as he stepped to the railing of the balcony and looked over.

Nine storeys. Not enough for the blue splat he desired.

Or, well...perhaps.

Drakken turned back and headed inside, closing the doors behind him. He stared around his darkened apartment again, his gaze finally resting on the ceiling fan as he crawled back upon his bed and lie down, not bothering to slide under the covers.

The flower rose up on its vine and blocked his view of the spinning object on the ceiling. Somehow it looked compassionate, though he still wasn't sure how it could have emotions or how he could know what they were. Its soft petals came down to his cheeks and began drying his tears.

Drakken scoffed at its effort. The flower would be at the task all night.


End file.
